


The Sixty-fifth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: The Senad Sentinel Tidbits Files by Many and Varied [65]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 03:24:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	The Sixty-fifth Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

## The Sixty-fifth Sentinel Tidbits File

by Many and Varied

Author's disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, these tidbits aren't mine. Honestly, I'm not responsible for any of it! 

* * *

Rating: the whole range  
Pairings: J/B (mostly!) 

* * *

Tidbit #1 

ObSenad: 

Hearing his lover snort with amusement, Jim turned his attention away from the TV, and looked at him. Blair was sitting in front of his computer, and from the look of amusement on his face, Jim concluded Blair was reading his email. "What's so funny, Chief?" 

"Oh, just one of the women on our list. She was explaining how things can get changed in translation. It's funny!" Blair explained. 

"Obviously. So, what, exactly, is so funny?" Jim asked 

"Well, she's learning Gaelic, and when you translate directly from Gaelic into English, it doesn't always read the same. Like occupations and jobs. In English, I'd say, 'Jim is a cop.' But if you translate directly from Gaelic, it reads : 'Jim has a cop in him!' Okay, okay, so you gotta have a dirty mind for it to be funny, but, hey, what can I say?" Blair replied looking up at Jim, who was now standing behind him, reading the letter. 

"I guess it's sort of funny," Jim agreed, a smile gracing his face. "In that case, I don't know if I want to be a cop. Tell me, Chief, how do I get an anthropologist 'in me'?" he whispered huskily into Blair's ear. 

Turning around, Blair gazed at Jim, "All you have to do is ask, I'm sure something can be arranged," he said in a seductive whisper before capturing Jim's mouth for a passionate kiss. 

//*the end*\\\ 

Stacy  


* * *

Tidbit #2 

ObSenad: Just Another Day. 

Jim stood at the mirror, stroking the razor over his face. Just as he was taking his last swipe, the shower turned off and an arm appeared around the shower curtain, making quick, jerky movements. Jim reached over and grabbed the towel off its rack, placing it in the broad hand. Just as he slapped some after shave on his face, Blair appeared from behind the curtain, drops of water still clinging to his body and the towel draped around his hips. 

Moving over to make room at the sink, Jim reached for his tooth brush while Sandburg began to shave. Their movements were as synchronized as those dancers in water. As Jim finished his requisite three minute brushing, his bathroom partner handed him a glass for the rinse. 

Jim brushed past the dawdling shaver, bringing their bodies close without actually touching. The cool air brought goose bumps to the other man. A reflected smile was his reward. 

Making a detour to the kitchen, Jim turned on the coffee pot and then made his way upstairs to dress for work. He was on his way down as Blair was making his way up. Looking at his watch and then turning an raised eyebrow seemed to push the younger man to a faster pace. 

Eggs scrambled and cooking, Jim poured himself his first cup of coffee for the day. His harried roommate dashed down the stairs and into the waiting grace of a hot mug of coffee. His first sip produced a sigh and a look of bliss. It was a ritual. No matter how late he was running, Blair always took full measure of that first taste of coffee, as if it would provide the answers to all this day's questions. The rest of the coffee was dispatched with his usual kinetic energy. 

Blair grabbed his backpack and moved towards the door. 

A stern "Breakfast," turned the young man around long enough to catch the saran wrapped blueberry muffin being thrown in his direction. 

"Thanks, Jim," and a smile flew its way back across the loft. "I won't be in till after lunch." And with that a stillness drifted over the loft. 

* * *

The bullpen was its usual frenetic activity and noise. Ringing phones, detectives passing information across the room or shouting out questions. Working at paper work most of the morning had Jim Ellison in a foul mood. Co-workers noticed, and gave him a wide berth. 

Captain Banks appeared in his doorway and inquired, "Jim, when's the kid coming in?" 

Without looking up, Jim responded, "He's on his way up." 

Most of Jim's friends and co-workers overheard the exchange but not one looked surprised when the elevator doors opened and Sandburg appeared. It was just another day in the Ellison -Sandburg zone. 

Simon summoned them both into his office. Taking their usual positions; Blair on the table and Jim standing next to him, both listened as Simon outlined their next case. Three prostitutes, all found dead on the north end of town, had what appeared to be knife wounds similar in nature. They were proceeding on the assumption that the same person had killed all three. 

Jim reached for the file while Blair expounded on the cultural and social implications of prostitutes and their function in a civilized society. Jim read over the file with one hand while the other rubbed gently against Blair's arm. Eventually, the words slowed and then stopped. 

"Let's go, Chief." 

Hopping off the table, both men made their way back to Jim's desk, Jim trailing with a hand to Sandburg's back. Simon just shook his head and went back to the reports on his desk. 

* * *

Jim's hand was firmly massaging his temple as Blair unlocked the loft door. Turning towards his partner, concern etched his face. He walked directly to the phone, dropped his backpack and dialed Wong's. Both men were tired from their long day, neither up to making the evening meal. 

Jim was upstairs and back down, changed into sweats and a T-shirt before Blair had finished ordering. Blair grabbed two beers before joining Jim on the couch. Handing one to his partner, he grabbed the remote with his free hand. Jim made a sound that was somewhere between complaint and resignation. Both settled into the couch to watch the evening news. 

A half hour later, the food arrived. Jim started to get up but was pushed back down with a "I've got it" and a push. Five minutes later they were back sitting side by side with plates of Chinese and fresh beers. The Jags game had started and Ellison watched with a Sentinel's vision, grumbling about over paid centers in between bits of Kung Pao Chicken. 

Occasionally, a foreign set of chopsticks made sneak forays into the Kung Pao territory. On one such pass, said chopsticks were ambushed. Looking over at his invader, Jim inspected the Chinese Vegetable Platter with the eye of a practiced tactician. "I suggest you keep your chopsticks where they belong, Sandburg." 

The younger man glanced up with a light in his eyes. "I'll keep that in mind, man." 

Watching his opponent, Ellison saw the quick mind at work behind the look of concentration. He smiled. 

Jim picked up the empty plates and took them into the kitchen. Putting them in the sink to soak, he walked around the couch to stand behind his guide. Brushing his hand against the neck and long hair, he said, "Time for bed." 

Blair turned around with a big smile and a twinkle in his eyes. One hand came up to display one pair of slightly used chopsticks. 

Laughter echoed through the loft. 

The End 

Blair Luver 

* * *

Tidbit #3 

ObSenad: 

Simon sent Jim home two hours early because the smile on the cop's face was starting to worry him. No one should be that happy. It probably had to do with something Sandburg was doing or about to do. Simon didn't want to know! Not by a long shot! 

Jim whistled softly as he let himself into the loft. Blair wasn't home yet, which was good because Jim wanted to do some things before their special evening. They had announced their attraction a week ago, and had flirted and necked on the couch every night since. Tonight was the night that they finally became lovers. 

He went to grab a beer from the fridge and found a list stuck on the door. He took it and went to the couch to read. 

42 Things Not To Say To A Naked Man. 

  1. I've smoked fatter joints than that. 
  2. Ahh, it's cute. 
  3. Why don't we just cuddle? 
  4. You know they have surgery to fix that. 
  5. Were you in an industrial accident? 
  6. It's more fun to look at. 
  7. Make it dance. 
  8. Wow, and your feet are so big. 
  9. My last boyfriend was 4" bigger. 
  10. It's OK, we'll work around it. 
  11. Eww, there's an inchworm on your thigh. 
  12. Oh no, a flash headache. 
  13. (giggle and point) 
  14. Can I be honest with you? 
  15. My 8-year-old brother has one like that. 
  16. Let me go get my tweezers. 
  17. How sweet, you brought incense. 
  18. This explains your car. 
  19. Thanks, I needed a toothpick. 
  20. Are you one of those pygmies? 
  21. Have you ever thought of working in a sideshow? 
  22. All right, a treasure hunt! 
  23. I didn't know they came that small. 
  24. Why is God punishing you? 
  25. What do you call this? 
  26. But it still works, right? 
  27. Damn I hate baby-sitting. 
  28. It looks so unused. 
  29. Maybe it looks better in natural light. 
  30. Why don't we skip right to the cigarettes? 
  31. Did you date Lorena Bobbitt? 
  32. Aww, it's hiding. 
  33. Are you cold? 
  34. If you get me real drunk first. 
  35. Is that an optical illusion? 
  36. What is that? 
  37. I'll go get the ketchup for your French fry. 
  38. Were you neutered? 
  39. It's a good thing you have so many other talents. 
  40. Does it come with an air pump? 
  41. So this is why you're supposed to judge people on personality. 
  42. Look, it fits my Barbie clothes! 



He'd barely gotten past the second one before the beer spewed out of his mouth. Was Sandburg trying to tell him something? 

A key sounded in the lock. Jim was about to find out! 

-fini- 

Lisa  


* * *

Tidbit #4 

ObSenad: 

"Oh, no. I hate when this happens." Blair thumped his head on the desk. 

Jim leaned over and peered at the message on Blair's computer screen. "Another old friend coming back into town?" 

"Yeah. But no matter what, we have to make sure we don't run into her, okay?" 

"Not a good friend?" 

"One of the best. That's why we've got to stay away from her. She can't handle our karma." 

Jim sighed. "I hear that." 

Blessings, 

Justine  


* * *

Tidbit #5 

ObSenad: 

"What's wrong, babe?" Jim looked up as Blair groaned defeatedly, tossing his opened mail onto the table in front of him. 

"Oh, just another batch of mag orders without all the info," Blair sighed. "Now I gotta track people down, AGAIN." 

Jim sighed, rubbing the slumped shoulders in front of him. "Sandburg, I keep telling you, if they don't send you the info, just write on the envelope 'Return to Sender'." 

"Yeah, I know, but I just hate having to be so...so...hard-assed, y'know? Maybe it's not such a big deal. It just adds a little more time....." 

"Time that should be used on _me_....." Jim grumped. "Sandburg, you're spending enough time on this as it is, and not making any money. Now, if you want to spend time, and not make any money....." his voice trailed off wickedly. 

"Ooo, and less chance of paper cuts!" Blair grinned as Jim pulled him to his feet, guiding him upstairs. 

"How could you get a paper cut during sex?" Jim queried puzzledly. 

"Well, I had this fantasy...see, you're the disgruntled postal worker, and......" 

\--fini-- 

Jenny  


* * *

Tidbit #6 

ObSenad: 

"Aw, christ." 

Blair looked over at the dark head shaking back and forth at the next desk. Trying to see what was going on without having to get up, he finally conceded and stood when he saw Brown shrug at him. 

"So, what's up now, Rafe?" Blair ventured as he stood next to his friend. 

"Aw, I have no idea," the detective answered. "I don't use the same programs these other folks are using, how can I answer their specific questions? I mean, I don't even know how to  look for the answer." 

"What's the question? Maybe I can help." 

Rafe opened up an e-mail message, and pointed at it. Blair read, trying to ignore the feel of nimble fingers running along the back of his knee. He finished the message, then glared at Rafe, raising one eyebrow towards Brown, who was only feet away. Rafe grinned that daredevil grin, and moved his hand to Blair's inner thigh. 

Blair stepped back quickly, and mumbled, "You're right, I have no idea how that program presents its options, sorry." Then he leaned in, suggesting, "Maybe you can ask on your list if anyone else knows about it." He took a moment to whisper in his friend's ear, "Are you trying to get caught?" 

"Good idea, Blair," Rafe replied enigmatically. "I'll definitely think about it." 

\--end-- 

Ann  


* * *

Tidbit #7 

ObSenad: 

Blair sat in front of his laptop, reading as Jim stepped behind him, first licked, then gently bit his earlobe. 

"Wanna do something more fun than staring at the monitor?" he suggested. 

"Aww, Jim, man. I have so many thing to do before we're leaving for our vacation." 

"Chief, we're leaving a week from next Monday. You have enough time to do _your_ many things after I do _my_ many things to you," he grinned evilly. 

"But I have to make a checklist or else I forget most of the stuff I need to pack and no, I do not mean the lube, Jim. And I have to go on digest on all of my mailing-lists, but I'll do that the weekend before we leave. And I have to remember all the stuff my friends want me to bring from Disney World, Universal Studios, SeaWorld, Cape Canaveral and so on. And then I have to find out when "The Watchman" is on in Orlando, so we won't miss that!!" Blair had shifted into hyper drive again. 

"Blair, you have a checklist for packing from our last vacation, the digest- thingy can wait another week, I've seen you taking notes for souvenirs for days now. Okay, I'll wait for you to ask your list for when the Watchman is on - I like that cute little anthro-guy. But hurry, Chief! I'll wait for you upstairs!" 

-finis- 

Anja  


* * *

Tidbit #8 

ObSenad: 

"Are you sure that you don't want to come? You are more then welcome Simon," said Jim standing and getting ready to head for the door of Simon's office, Blair following suit. 

"No, I don't want to intrude on you and your brother catching up. There must be a lot of that to do." Simon turned slightly so that he could refill his coffee cup, the dark liquid giving off a rich aroma. 

"Simon, this is not a family get together. It's a Friday night dinner where friends get together, swap stories, kick back, and _relax_ ," Jim said stressing the last word. "We have all been going 100% full speed ahead and we all need some time to just slow down." Jim raised his hand as Simon was about to speak cutting him off before he even had a chance to start. "Yes, Stephen will be there, but so will Blair, and Joel, if he can make it. See, _not_ a family thing. A friend thing, even a buddy thing, but not family thing." 

Simon almost choked on his coffee when he looked up and notice the look on Jim's face. It was a damn good imitation of Sandburg's puppy dog eyes. It touched him deeper then he would ever admit that his friends cared for him enough to put up with his bitching and moaning over the last few days and still want to invite him over for dinner. Feeling a smile starting to break over his face he surrendered with raised hands. "Okay, you win. Next Friday at 7pm, I'll be there." Simon smiled as Jim smile back and Blair did a little _yes_ dance as he bounced form foot to foot. 

Before Jim could say anything else there was a short rap on the door before it was opened and a small mousy looking woman entered, a large manila envelop in her hands. "Sir," she said meekly handing the envelope to Simon before ducking back out. Setting down in coffee cup Simon began to open the envelope. "Is there anything that I need to bring? Food? Beer?" 

"No, not really, we had most of the stuff and Blair is making the dinner. 'Course if you really want to bring beer then we won't....... Simon, what's wrong!" asked Jim coming forward. 

In some part of Simon's brain that was still working he knew that even without Jim's sentinel senses, Jim would have been able to hear his heart stop for a moment then start again going triple time. Looking away from the photo and shoving it back down into the envelope before Jim or Blair could crowd in too close. //Can't let anyone see this!// his mind screamed. "It's nothing," he said knowing that everyone in that room, himself included didn't believe a word of it. 

"Simon!?" Jim questioned, a hurt look on his face at the lie. Seeing several heads out in the bull pen pop up and turn in their direction he took a moment to calm himself, and he waited for Blair as he closed the blinds, before trying again. "Simon," this time it came out in a low hiss, "it's not nothing. Your face just turned a deathly shade of white, pretty impressive for a black man, Simon." Jim was somewhat relieved to see Simon shoot him a nasty look. Taking the edge off his voice, "What is it, Simon. Talk to me." 

"It's nothing, Jim, really. Just something that I thought was in the past." Then softer, "Something that I thought was over." A sadness of sorts passed over Simon Bank's face quickly followed by something that looked remarkable a lot like fear before the walls went up and his face went blank. "Now, you two get out of here and go home." He made shooing gestures towards the door. "I know that today has been a nasty one, tomorrow is not going to be much better. If we are lucky, we will have this whole Ranson case cleared up by Friday and that dinner can be a real celebration. Now go." 

Simon walked over to the window, envelope clutched tightly to his chest. The office was silent for a moment and he was almost sure that Jim was going to say something. Try to pry more out of him with Sandburg more then willing to help, and for once Simon was not sure if how he could handle the two if they really pushed him. But he didn't have to. He heard feet moving _away_ from him and the door opening, the sounds of the outer bull pen almost painfully loud after the silence, and Jim's soft good-bye that really meant "if you need anything..." Simon nodded his head slightly at that, saying "thank you," as well as dismissing them. 

The door clicked quietly shut, holding the noise of the outer world at bay for a moment. Leaning forward, his head coming to rest on the window, Simon's mind raced. //What in the hell am I going to do? What am I going to do?// 

end? 

Banshee  


* * *

Tidbit #9 

ObSenad: 

"Damn it!" Jim shouted. 

Blair looked up from the couch at Jim, upstairs in his room. Leaning his head back, he was able to see his roommate giving his computer a glare usually reserved for ax murderers, people who cut him off in traffic, and Blair himself when he left hair in the sink. 

"Hey, what's up, man?" Blair called. 

"Nothing." Jim growled. "I just did something stupid." 

"Like what?" Blair asked, standing up. 

"Nothing!" Jim snapped. 

"No, Jim, really. I mean did you delete something accidentally? Don't do anything," Blair said, hurrying up the stairs, "maybe I can still retrieve it for you." 

"It's not that." Jim said, and as Blair reached the top of the stairs, he saw Jim hurriedly minimize a screen. "I just-- I'm on this mailing list, for The Watchman?" 

"You are?" Blair raised an eyebrow. He was subscribed to one himself, but he somehow doubted it was the same one as Jim. No way Jim was into slash. 

"Right, well, I wrote this story--" Jim said, leaning an elbow on his writing desk. 

"You wrote a story!?" Blair interrupted. 

"Yeah, so? You're not the only one around here who can string words together, Darwin." 

"Hey, man, it's cool, I just didn't think fiction was your thing." 

"I know you've read my reports--" Jim said, "you type half of them-- what do you think I'm doing when I make up stuff to cover up the Sentinel thing?" 

"Oh." Blair said. "Well, fiction, I guess. So you wrote a Watchman story?" 

"Yeah, just a short one-- it sort of just came to me." said Jim, turning back to the computer. "But they have these rules, see, where you're supposed to send a synopsis with warnings and a rating first, and you're supposed to label it 0/1. But I accidentally labeled mine 1/1, so it looked like there were two 1/1 messages with the same title." 

"But only the slash list has that rule!" Blair said without thinking, and Jim turned around to stare at him. "I mean I heard... I have friends who..." He wilted under Jim's intent gaze, then rallied. After all, Jim was the one _writing_ for the slash list, so there. "Okay, so I may have been... might be... subscribed." 

"Oh, great. Then you'll get to see my stupid mistake too. God." Jim groaned, and Blair laughed. "I don't know if it's going to be archived, I don't know if some people didn't read it, and the worst part is, the synopsis message even had the wrong rating, NC-17 instead of G!" 

"Oh," said Blair, vaguely disappointed that he wasn't going to get to read some Jim-authored smut. "Well, Watchfans are, like, totally nice people, I'm sure you'll be okay. So... anyway... you're into the whole subtext thing, huh?" 

"Well... like I said, the story just came to me. It was really short," Jim mumbled. 

"So what was it about?" Blair asked, crossing forward to sit on the edge of Jim's bed. Jim frowned at him, and Blair smiled, leaning forward. "Hey, man, I'm gonna get to read it anyway." 

Jim sighed. "Well, it was called Cold Comfort, and it's from the cop's point of view-- his buddy dies, and the cop wishes..." 

"What?" Blair asked. 

"Well, first he wishes," Jim said slowly, "that he'd told his partner. You know. How he felt about him." 

"Right," said Blair, his heart suddenly pounding. What was that look in Jim's eyes? 

"And he wonders if his partner knew... but he hopes he didn't, because... Well, you'll just have to read it," Jim said, standing. 

"God, Jim," Blair said breathlessly looking up at him. "I just... I really... I can't believe you screwed up the headers on a *death story!*" He snickered. 

"I knowwwww!" Jim groaned, throwing up his hands. "God, why didn't I just marry the cop to some nice woman while I was at it. You know, piss off *everybody.*" 

"Oh, come on, man, you wouldn't do that, would you?" Blair asked, pretending to be shocked. 

"Nah," Jim said, sitting down beside Blair on the bed. He leaned back, lying down with his legs still hanging over the edge. "I wouldn't do that." 

"So why didn't the cop tell his partner?" Blair asked, half-turning to look down at Jim. 

"What?" 

"Why didn't he *tell him.*" Blair said, punching Jim playfully in the ribs. "Before it was too late." 

"Oh, well..." Jim shrugged, making eye contact with Blair. "Dunno, Chief. Maybe he was scared. Of risking their friendship. You know, partnerships like that don't come along every day." 

"All the better reason not to let the opportunity go by, don't you think?" Blair asked, lying down on his side next to Jim. He propped himself up on his elbow, looking down at his best friend. He smiled, hoping Jim could see the encouragement, the love in his eyes. "C'mon, Jim, think of this as research." 

"Research?" Jim said sharply, sitting up. 

"For another story." Blair said, pulling him back down gently. "This one about the partner. From his point of view. Like, with lots of hot sex. But you know, not _just_ about sex. See-- you'll have to show how much he loves the cop." 

"Love?" Jim said, and took a deep breath. 

"Yeah." Blair said softly. "I mean-- you know what they say." 

Jim smiled. "No-- tell me what they say." 

"Truth is stranger than fiction," Blair said, and kissed him. 

(end) 

Livia 

* * *

End The Sixty-fifth Sentinel Tidbits File. 

 


End file.
